The Moon's Youngest Daughter
by ArwenSol
Summary: Sometimes all you have to offer the world are your dreams...
1. A Star in the Night

Night embraced the land and the Golden Woods slept, its inhabitants safe within the timeless lullaby of the trees. But for one there was no rest to be found this night and while the forest dreamt, held in a silver sleep beneath the cradle of the moon, a lone peredhel walked through the shadow-filled night. Tonight the familiar paths brought her no comfort and Arwen glided over the land haunted by the silent restlessness of her own heart. Coming to the edge of the wood her keen elf eyes traveled over the silver-green land for a sign of… something. Yet even the nighttime mutterings of the woodland creatures and the wind's whispers through the leaves conveyed no revelations of their own.   
  
With a weary sigh, Arwen leaned against the trunk of an ancient Mallorn tree closing her eyes against the night and the answer she could not find. It seemed as if tonight, just like the night before and the one before that… she would find no cure to the unrest that plagued her.   
  
A sudden breeze swept past her, whisking her loose white dress into rippling waves around her lithe body and causing a little shiver to run over her skin. Running slender fingers through her sable tresses in an attempt to quell their wayward dance with the wind, Arwen decided that she might as well return to bed, even if it meant staring up at the ceiling till dawn.  
  
As sudden as the wind had come, it dropped off. Barely a step beneath the shelter of Lorién's borders, Arwen was stilled by a nameless compulsion and her body seemed eerily as a statue beneath the moon. The whispers of the wind had been replaced by the voice of another kind and Arwen was entranced by the mysterious echo that inundated her senses.   
  
They called to her, the words coming from nowhere and everywhere at once; speaking of things that pulled at the peredhel's heart though she remained still, afraid to move for fear that the speech would stop. It told of living, sang of dreams, whispered of promises, sighed of hopes… but underlying it all Arwen could hear the remnants of a bitter grief. Despite the beauty of those lives and dreams and promises and hopes, the voice wept for the ones left unfulfilled.   
  
As the voice faded into nothingness, tears came to Arwen's eyes, the salty evidence of her sadness lingering on her black lashes before falling in silver trails down her cheeks. Free from the strange thrall, the peredhel let her head fall back as shudders wracked her slender body and she wept. It felt as if she stood there for hours, but it could not have been more than a few minutes and then that errant breeze rose again to dry her tears.   
  
Breathing deeply, Arwen looked out, her beryline drawn as if by an irresistible force toward the night sky. The gentle moon was full tonight and the cloudless sky had uncovered shimmering stars stretching out numberless into the distance. Beneath such a sky her own petty problems seemed insignificant and Arwen tried to find what peace she could in the cloaked mysteries of the heavens, keeping herself from looking too closely for answers.   
  
Finding an unexpected peace that had been eluding her all these many nights, Arwen reached out her hand so that in the distance it seemed as if her hand touched the moon. A glitter on her finger caught her attention and she studied the plain gold band that encircled her ring-finger. Memories returned of when she had received the ring from the Masters of the Rings Guild, and she thought wistfully of those enchanted halls. She had not returned there in a long time and longed once more for the friendships she had found there. She considered her own ring, _Olnäthron__:_ the Fire ring of DreamWeaving, how pretentious that sounded and she thought wistfully if only she _were_ able to be a weaver of dream! It seemed apt somehow, on this night of all nights, if she'd had the ability to complete all those unfinished dreams.   
  
But sadly such was beyond any power she knew of… some incomplete things could not be mended no matter how one might hope. Arwen knew an ache in her heart, an unfathomable regret for her inability, but she knew that the Fire Element of her ring would burn the delicate dreams to ashes; the best she could do was draw upon the wishful dreams of the innocent and weave them into reality even if only for a little while… and that would have to be enough.   
  
A sudden sound like thunder clapped in the heavens. A startling light shot out, and Arwen threw her arms over her eyes to shield from the blinding flash. With her blood pounding in her veins, Arwen cautiously lowered her arms just in time to see a tiny star flare into white-hot brilliance then shoot in a brilliant arc across the purple-hued sky. Following its passage in wide-eyed shock the peredhel watched the falling star disappear over the horizon. A ghostly light illuminated the shadowy distance and died. For a moment all Arwen could do was stare at that faraway place. Not knowing why, but feeling the insistence in her heart she turned swiftly and ran back to the inner sanctum of the Woods.   
  
Soon enough, her things were packed; all the necessities for an extended journey and her white robes had been replaced with resilient garments more suited to travel. Leaving in fleet-footed silence, Arwen shouldered her pack and flew down the stairs of the _tellain__._ No one in Lothlorien would be surprised at her hasty departure for she had been passing through there for many years now but she was careful not to make any sound anyway.   
  
Once more that night, Arwen found herself at the edge of the wood but this time she would not be returning to her dreamless sleep. Something was out there: a fallen star and she meant to find it. This intense _need_ to find what lay beyond the horizon had risen inside her and it would not be slaked until her search was done. She did not know what she would find and in truth, she was a little scared that her task was a fruitless one borne out of her lonely desperation. But with firm resolve, Arwen took the first step on her journey. She needed an answer… even if it were not to her liking yet in her heart she knew that what lay at this journey's end would help her find her way.   
  
She would find it at last, the key… the question… the answer…

* * *

Across the land, a hundred eyes of all different shapes and sizes and color, caught sight of the shooting star. And as folk have done for centuries before and shall probably continue to do when all these have passed… they cast their wishes into the night.


	2. A Light in the Dark

Since leaving Lorién Arwen had walked through the night, through dawn as light painted the sky in soft radiance and now as the sun reached its zenith, beating down mightily upon the land. Looking far across the windswept plain her eyes detected no respite from the glaring heat and not for the first time that afternoon she wished she had thought to saddle a mount for herself. She would still have had to travel during this time of day but at least she would have made better time.

From her vantage the night before, the peredhel had estimated that it would take her almost a full days travel to reach the place where the shooting star had fallen. But as yet there was no sign of it. Until she found some form of shelter, Arwen made do by pulling her hood further down across her face, thankful that the galadrim cloak offered some protection from the elements. Walking automatically, with her senses attuned to the background, Arwen let her thoughts roam over the nooks and crannies of her mind.

As soon as her feet hit the road, that vexing feeling of restlessness had been lifted, as if it had been a great weight constricting her, and for the first time in weeks she felt as if she were able to breathe easily. Still unable to form a connection between her sudden serenity and the things she'd seen during the night hours, Arwen attributed the agitation to a case of wanderlust. After that decision, the peredhil's steps were decidedly lighter, as she walked with a grin playing on her lips and her mind traversing the familiar roads to all the places she would go visit soon.

There was Rivendell of course, to visit with her kinfolk although this time she wouldn't give in to any pleas for her to stay longer. After that there were her Hobbit friends, from Bree to the Shire as well as the Splintered Chamber Pot somewhere along the way. The Bard's Guild, the Mithril Knights at Eryn Lasgalen and last but not least the Ring's Guild. As her joyful memories of these people and places came pouring back, Arwen crested a small hill and a sudden frown marred her smooth brow. Her smiling lips pursed in confusion as she considered the addition to the landscape. The last time she had come this way hadn't been so long ago, even in the years of Men and _this_ had definitely not been here before…

* * *

Where before there had been nothing more than rock and grass spread out far as eye could see, now great silver trees rose to screen the horizon. Sensing no danger Arwen laid a hand upon the rough bark, the trees were normal… as normal as any tree could be in a land full of strange magic. In any case, though the trees had not come here by themselves their advent was mystical in nature. Shielding her eyes against the sun's glare, the peredhel searched for signs of whoever had done this; surely whoever it was would not go through the trouble of growing a forest in the middle of nowhere and just leaving.

But finding no sign that another had traversed there recently Arwen was wary of staying. With her hand trailing over the tightly interspersed trees she prepared to walk through the wood and soon discovered that the trees did not stretch all the way across but in fact formed a circle that could have been no more than a few meters through. It was easy to pass by if one so wished and somehow this reassured the peredhel, also this was the first shade she had come across all day and she was loathe to leave its cool respite.

Setting her bag down Arwen gladly leaned against a tree trunk, availing herself of the food and water she had packed along for the journey. Then replete and comfortable she leaned her head against the silver bole; breathing deeply of the earthy smells of the wind-swept plain and soon drifted into unbidden slumber.

The sky had darkened; just a faint gold line still shimmered on the horizon until it too was swallowed by the night. Arwen awoke with a start, her eyes dilating in the darkness as she remembered where she was. She had not meant to fall asleep but the day's travels had taken more of a toll on her than she would have thought and oddly disoriented, the peredhel rose to her feet. Turning to pick up her bags, Arwen took a step back for the landscape she had come upon was changed yet again.

While she slept the trees had moved, so silently that it had not awakened her though she wondered with some uneasiness if she would have awoken even so. In the day the trunks had grown close together so that even her slender body would have found it hard to squeeze through. But with the coming of night the trunks had moved farther apart and their silver bark gleamed with a strange luminosity. Trying to look through the woods to the other side, Arwen was faced with a pure white light that blocked her view. Where it grazed her face, the skin tingled though it was not an unpleasant experience. It reminded her of when she heard the elven choirs, their songs too moving to put into mortal words.

Knowing that nothing which caused such a feeling could be bad Arwen felt free from worry, thus shouldering her bag she pushed through the outermost trees to find the source of light contained within. She did not have to walk long, for the circle of forest was not so large, and as she came closer to the middle the light grew brighter, enfolding her in warmth. At the heart of the wood a space had been hollowed out, with trees ringing all around though overhead the moon could be seen clearly through the canopy. Around the edges of the glade, ferns and mosses vied for space and small night blooming flowers waved in an invisible breeze.

Thought it did not hurt her eyes to look upon it the peredhel found she could not see what lay at the very center of the light. It seemed just a place, a point in the air from where the radiance emanated. After a time of peering closely, Arwen realized that the light was fading, slowly but surely, though its brilliance remained undiminished and she was soon able to see what lay at the core of the light. Her gasp of incredulity was the only sound in the hushed night, for what she now gazed upon she would never have thought to find in such a place.


	3. A Child in the Wood

"Hello."

The voice… Arwen could describe it no other way than to say it was like the silver of bells… like the barely audible chiming of light, and it came from the small figure standing in the middle of the glade. The light that had previously filled the clearing, continued to recede until Arwen could make out a tiny sphere cradled by two small hands. It was a girl child, with fair skin and hair, and eyes an indiscernible shade of blue somewhere between the velvet indigo of twilight and a cool predawn azure. At first she could easily have been mistaken as a daughter of the race of Men but the mysterious awareness that lingered in the depths of her eyes reminded Arwen more of the great Elven lords and ladies of old, of whom she herself was a descendant.

"I said 'Hello'," the girl said again, her piercing gaze focused on Arwen as the peredhel fumbled to reply. Instead of a greeting, however, the words that burst from Arwen's lips were, "What are you doing here?" and she looked around in search of others, hopefully adults for surely no one would leave such a young child alone in the middle of nowhere. "I fell," the silvery voice spoke sadly causing Arwen to look over in alarm. But besides being ill garbed for the cool night, the child carried no visible signs of harm. "Why don't you let me take a look at you, just to make sure you're all right," the peredhel said soothingly as if speaking to a wild creature and waited with baited breath as the girl padded over on small bare feet.

Running her hands gently over the girl's pale limbs, Arwen made sure that she was fine only her skin seemed unnaturally cool though that was expected since she wore only a thin shift. Taking a spare shirt from her bag, Arwen motioned for the child to put it on, "Would you like me to hold that for you?" she asked pointing to the pearl that the girl still clung to tightly. But she only shook her head, with a sigh Arwen rifled around in her bag again until she produced a leather thong with a tiny pouch at the end. Holding it open expectantly Arwen let the girl drop it into the little bag and then quickly pulled it shut and dropped it over the child's neck. The child seemed pleased with herself and grinned at the elf as she fingered the bag with her tiny fingers.

With quick efficiency Arwen dressed the child in the thick material, folding up the long sleeves and tucking the leather pouch with the pearl beneath the collar. "Now that you're all wrapped up, why don't you tell me who you are so we can find your family," Arwen said softly. "My name is Él," the child said and the peredhel wracked her brain, wondering why the name seemed so familiar. It came to her then that only the elvish poets used that word, it meant star. But why would this girl have an unusual elvish name the peredhel wondered but waited patiently for the girl to answer the rest of her question. "I am Ránayeldë do you know what that is?" With a frown Arwen shook her head 'no', though the sound of it teased at her memory, she could not place it.

"Well, Él, do you know where your parents are? Maybe I can take you to them," but the girl just looked sad the corners of her little mouth turning down.

"My mother is very far away, I can't reach her now." The pale face turned to the sky, gazing off into the distance only to turn, in the very next second to look up at Arwen, "She sent me to you. I'm to stay with you now, Lady." And to the peredhel's astonishment Él slipped her hand into hers.

"What do you mean?" Arwen asked hesitantly but the girl seemed unperturbed.

"Aren't you glad to see me? I know you were looking for me."

"But why would your mother send you to me?"

"She saw you too, looking up at her and she knew what you could do… You can help us can't you?" Él turned her grave eyes up to Arwen and inexplicably she felt the need to make Él happy. She nodded.

Reassured, the child tugged Arwen back through the tree, leaving the glade behind and she followed unresistingly. Thoughts tumbled and churned in her mind, Él's words playing over and over again… she fell, I followed her, her mother saw me from above…When the reached the edge of the small copse of trees Arwen slouched against the nearest bole in shock. It was all starting to make a crazy kind of sense; Ránayeldë was not the name of a race, at least not any of this realm but the words themselves?

_Él_… star, _Rána_ and _yeld_… moon and daughter… the bits and pieces began coming together in Arwen's mind though she pushed aside the idea as completely ridiculous… or was it? Stranger things had happened in these lands and why couldn't a star, a daughter of the moon, find incarnation on earth? The peredhel's shadowed green gaze looked over at Él who was occupying herself by picking the small night blooming flowers near the wood's edge. Though Arwen's logical mind denied it, everything else in her that made up who she was recognized its absolute truth.

_This_ was her fallen star.


	4. The Lost Dream

Once more Arwen found herself walking across the open field, the western breeze tugging on her hair as she looked ahead where Él gamboled, running delightedly through the tall grass. Looking at the tow-headed girl with the chiming laughter and sparkling eyes one wouldn't think that she was anything but a regular child. "Why are you here?" the peredhel asked softly, though the wind snatched her voice away before the girl would have heard. But, mysteriously, just like everything else about her, Él heard the question and came loping back toward Arwen, the small leather bag hanging about her neck a dark spot against the white of her shift.  
  
"I'm here because I was sent here. And you were sent here too. We are only here to do what we must," Él replied cryptically and Arwen made an exasperated sound; the girl had been spouting such platitudes the whole day. While 'profound' in their own way, they provided no answer to her questions. But the most disquieting, and oft repeated answer yet was "You'll see," at which Arwen wanted to yell and hit something to vent her frustration.  
  
As the day wore on, Arwen realized that somewhere along the way, Él had taken the lead, walking in what seemed to be no direction in particular. "Where are we going?" Arwen asked, silently berating herself for not realizing earlier. She braced herself for another answer of, "you'll see," but was surprised when Él pointed over the next sloping hill.  
  
"What's over there?" she asked, trying to remember the geography of the region without success... it had been a while.  
  
"Someone who lost something that we must return," Él said, her small hand clutching at the pearl around her neck. For a second, Arwen patted her pockets, trying to think of anything that had to be returned... the only thing she could think of was the girl herself, who had assured her that such was impossible.  
  
"Alright," Arwen said on a sigh. After all she'd been the one searching for Él, even if she hadn't known what she would find, and they were stuck with each other for the time being.  
  
They crested over the inclining land and spread out before them was a small farming village that Arwen vaguely remembered passing by years before... It had been smaller then. The people, obviously mortal, were mostly going about their own business though a few children had stopped in their play to watch the two strange women approach. Not many strangers passed through there, but there was none of the wariness that Arwen had seen many times in the faces of men and women hardened by war.  
  
As if she knew exactly where she was going, Él walked down the path running through the middle of the village smiling at those who caught her eye, causing a softening of their features that had nothing to do with friendliness and more with the gentle aura that surrounded the star-girl.  
  
Near the other end of line of humble thatched houses Él finally slowed at the very last cottage, which seemed to have an air of neglect around it that the others didn't. Without warning, Él pushed the door and it swung open easily. Motioning for Arwen to stay outside, the girl walked in. And the peredhel waited tensely, careful not to act threatening as a few of the men in the fields began walking toward the house. Her keen hearing picked out their words, and they seemed harmless enough but one never knew when curiosity could turn into hostility.  
  
A small crowd soon gathered in front of the house, whispering amongst themselves, they all seemed to know the person who lived there. Arwen couldn't believe somebody did for the place was practically falling in on itself, and asked a middle-aged woman at the edge of the group, "Good day, lady. Could you please tell me who dwells here?"  
  
The flax-haired woman looked at her cautiously before answering softly in the Common Speech, "Naught but old Ælfleda lives there now. Years ago a fever struck the village, and her house the hardest." The woman shook her head sadly, "After the loss of her husband and sons to a fever she went a little mad, and things never got better." Arwen felt the stinging of tears in her eyes; it was a heartbreaking thing to lose a loved one, as she knew all too well.  
  
"And now she's taken ill herself... some of us think it a blessing," her eyes flashing defiantly. Arwen nodded, tempted to offer her own inadequate healing skills but from the other woman's tone the peredhel knew that no amount of magic could save Ælfleda from what afflicted her. The woman was dying of a broken heart, she ate, breathed, went on because her body demanded it... living on dreams that had died long ago. 


	5. Dreamweaver

Evening came, and Arwen sat alone on a rickety chair forgotten by the door. Those gathered had melted away once they'd realized nothing 'exciting' was about to happen and so the peredhel was left alone with her thoughts in the empty street. Occasionally voices could be heard within, but the words were too indistinct and she wasn't really expecting any trouble.  
  
She knew now, what Él had meant when she'd said someone had lost something, but she didn't know how a visit from a fallen star--- while an amazing thing in itself--- could help Ælfleda regain the life she'd lost.  
  
With a sigh, Arwen dropped her head onto her raised knee. Her eyes closed and she dreamt that she was back in the forests of her youth when it had been filled with so much laughter and love and not the melancholy shadows that now dwelled there. The door opened on a high-pitched squeak that woke Arwen and at first she thought she was still dreaming for joyful laughter still sounded in the air.  
  
Going into the dark interior of the room, Arwen's eyes easily adjusted to the lack of light to take in the scene before her. A handsome, grandmotherly woman sat beneath a window of moonlight illuminating her silvery hair. The elf knew that this must be Ælfleda, but instead of the solemn, deathly figure she'd expected there was laughter deepening the lines around the older woman's mouth and eyes. Turning her head, Arwen's gaze alighted on Él, sitting at the other end of the small bed and the peredhel wondered if it was a chimera caused by the shadows or did the star- child look as if the light within her had dimmed?  
  
"I'm all right," Él replied before Arwen even had the chance to ask her question. The peredhel narrowed her eyes because things didn't seem that way to her, but further inquiry was stilled when Él said, "Doesn't she look happy?" Though Él still smiled there seemed a weariness in the small stooped shoulders and shaded cerulean eyes that hadn't been there earlier.  
  
A worried frown creased Arwen's brows. She went to sit next to Él, the rigid mattress barely depressed under her weight and pulled the girl to her side as if she were any other child in need of love and care. In a purely childlike gesture, Él turned her head into Arwen's shoulders and said in a pitiful voice, "I'm not strong enough."  
  
The elf reached up to stroke the girl's pale hair, murmuring soothingly, but as if Él's words had been a dire portent Ælfleda suddenly began to cry softly, the tears running down her wizened cheeks.  
  
Él shook her head in distress, going over to the old woman to wipe away the crystalline drops with her small rounded hands. Unable to see their grief Arwen turned away, going to the window in her cowardice to glare at the moon. What good had this visit done? It might have been better for all involved if Él had never fallen to this earth. Like she had done the night she'd left Lórien the peredhel raised her hand to the sky and once more the moonlight flashed off the golden ring encircling her finger.  
  
Just then, Él turned to her, "Help me," she whispered the entreaty through her tears and suddenly Arwen knew what she was here to do... Why she had been sent on this quest. With slow, steady steps she walked to stand before Ælfleda, the woman's milky eyes stared through her blindly; with visions only she could see.  
  
Arwen raised her hands, invoking the magic of her elemental ring, the power of starfire and of dreamweaving. A golden glow rose slowly around her willowy form, the sparks coalescing into silken strands of light that glinted in the pale light of the moon as they flowed. The sound of whispers and faraway laughter, the giggling of children, words of love... sounded in the ensuing quiet, and Ælfleda seemed to know the voices for she turned toward them in the darkness.  
  
With the hand bearing Olnäthron, Arwen picked through the interweaving threads searching for the right one. After frustrating seconds of picking and discarding various light fibers Arwen began to wonder if her conclusions had been wrong. It was more difficult than she'd thought to pick out Ælfleda and her family's threads from the whole weaving surrounding her.  
  
And suddenly Él was there, standing beside her, the lustrous pearl cupped in her small palms mingling the golden glow of Arwen's dream tapestry with the white fire of the moon and stars. Of its own violation, a single burnished thread moved toward the gem and Arwen plucked it from the air, carefully unweaving it from the whole with nimble fingers.  
  
It was the right one.  
  
At her steady hold on that particular thread the voices surrounding the three women grew louder bringing once more that serene, dreamy smile to Ælfleda's face. Arwen smiled in answer and taking the thread between thumb and forefinger, she released it with a gentle wisp of breath from her lips and a silent prayer. The golden strand danced toward Ælfleda to settle in a shimmering crown onto her hair. The woman's pealing laughter overflowed into the sad little room, making it brighter until every corner seemed filled with all the happy memories that had passed within those four walls.

The tapestry of light surrounding Arwen and Él slowly faded, the whispers blending into the sound of the wind and the intensely bright sphere returning back to its latent form. The peredhel reached down to wipe away the wet tracks running down the star-girl's face. They turned toward Ælfleda who lay on the bed, her face turned away from them and Arwen's heart ached at how fragile the old woman looked in the moonlight.  
  
"Everything will be all right now," Él said, slipping her hand into Arwen's and they seemed to cling together, the elf and the star-child, for assurance and comfort against the passing of the night.


	6. The Moon's Tear

Dawn's golden fingers crept slowly over the land, bathing the shadows and valleys in resplendent light. Arwen and Él woke, coming to consciousness at once without the dazed time between sleep and wakefulness. Together they turned toward Ælfleda, her body still in repose and knew with a numinous certainty that it was a sleep from which she would not be wakened.  
  
Arwen took one of the wrinkled hands in her own, and Él held the other. Their eyes shining with hidden tears they vigilantly arranged the body in preparation for any last rites.  
  
"She was happy, there at the end, wasn't she?" Arwen asked in a tremulous, childlike voice that startled her. It had been so long since she'd felt like a child.  
  
"You gave her dreams back, I don't think anything could have made her happier," Él replied solemnly a hopeful smile beginning to trace the corners of her small bow-shaped mouth.  
  
As the village began to throw off the fog of night and sleep, two figures slipped away across the fields, beyond the edge of the village until it was no more than another mysterious place over the next hill. When one intrepid villager went to go see what had become of the mysterious strangers all he found was Ælfleda's body. It was apparent from the smile on her face that she had gone peacefully and it became generally understood that she had passed, serenely in her sleep.  
  
They traveled easily, with Arwen following Él in what was coming to be a usual occurrence. Once they were far away enough away from the village, Arwen's wish that Él talk to her proceeded to come true, and Él's story began:  
  
"Do you know what the saddest thing in this world is?" she asked gravely. And although vivid images of death and destruction came to Arwen's mind she shook her head in negation.  
  
"It's when people forget their dreams," Él finally said rolling the pearlescent gem between her tiny fingers, "They cast their wishes into the night, with barely a hope that it will come true and once that is gone they have nothing left in them to hope for." She turned to Arwen with stormy indigo eyes that pleaded for understanding.  
  
"We bought them to her, my sisters and I, and she took all the dreams into herself to collect them--- keep them safe. But she couldn't hold it all, so much loss and so much sadness--- and so she wept this single tear..." Él whispered, pressing the pearl so hard in her palm that Arwen was sure the imprint would always be there as a reminder of what she had been.  
  
Arwen nodded her head. The Moon's Tear held all the hopes and dreams that people had let go in the desperate hours of the night. But she still didn't understand why she had been called to accompany Él on this quest and she asked the girl her question, not really expecting an answer.  
  
"Did you know that was going to happen?" said the peredhel, meaning the whole journey beginning with her tenuous, restless night beneath the eaves of Lórien's borders and ending with her use of [I]Olnäthron[/I] to weave together Ælfleda's lost dreams. Arwen was unable to hide the small seed of resentful at having been so maneuvered and yet as she recalled the old woman's sorrow turn to joy, couldn't stay angry... it had been for a worthy cause.  
  
Él looked at the elf woman, saying obliquely, "I didn't know exactly, but I knew that the one sent to me would be the one able to help me in this first task."  
  
"Do you mean because of this?" Arwen asked fingering the thin band of gold around her finger and Él nodded.  
  
"It is forged from star-fire, the same thing that I was made of and so it guided me to you and you to me... And also because my Mother knew that you were looking for something and had almost given up. You were almost on the edge of despair, about to let go..."  
  
Arwen drew a harsh breath in indignation but kept silent when Él leveled her with those luminous azure eyes. "There are some things you cannot hide, and some you hide only from yourself," the star-child said kindly with a wisdom beyond her seemingly diminutive years. "She knew what it was that you needed, a purpose, a reason to be..."  
  
Uncomfortable with this bleak reflection of herself, Arwen briskly changed the subject. "What did you mean when you said that this was your 'first task'?"  
  
"That wasn't the only lost wish..." Él said referring to Ælfleda, her eyes downcast in mourning. Arwen watched with horror as fat tears began rolling down the girl's face.  
  
"Hush, love. Everything will be all right," the elf said gently, cradling the child next to her heart.  
  
"How can you be so sure?" the girl said on a hiccup and for once Arwen heard uncertainty in that ethereal voice and she pulled the child closer.  
  
"You'll see," the peredhel said, mimicking Él's words to tease the girl out of her listlessness and it seemed to work because Él hugged her tightly before jumping out of Arwen's lap to run gaily across the meadow.  
  
Watching her go, Arwen blessed the resilient nature of children and at the same time felt a moment's fear at such unfounded trust but she knew she wouldn't have to face it alone.  
  
Just as she had instinctively used her ring actions to help Él, so would others like her and it would take all the powers of the elements of this world and the heavens above ...Air, Fire, Earth, Water, Order, Life, Chaos, Death, Moon, Sun, Star, Dark, Light, and Melody... to bring faith to those who had forgotten how to dream.  
  
As she set their direction toward the AHUR, Arwen wondered with a buoyant smile what the other ringbearers would make of her new addition to their wondrous halls and the immense hope she bore in a space no bigger than a Moon's Tear.

* * *

The AHUR is the name of the guild-house for the Rings of the Element's Guild on Torc (www.tolkienonline.com). It stands for **ALCARIN HALL i UIREB RINGORN**, which translates into **The Glorious Hall of Eternal Circles**.


End file.
